


But Your Words Cut Like Knives

by scribblemymind



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, trigger warning: mentions of eating disorders, trigger warning: mentions of self-harm, trigger warning: mentions of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:20:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemymind/pseuds/scribblemymind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis was (almost) always there for Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Your Words Cut Like Knives

**Author's Note:**

> here have some angsty larry. tbh looking back on this one I don't know about it, but I'm moving it here from my tumblr, so.

Louis was there when Harry was happy.   
He was there to see the laughing boy with the cherub curls, the one with the sparkling green eyes that made his breath stop in his throat and his heart beat erratically loud in his chest. He was there to see the sixteen year old bundle of joy, the one with the cheeky smiles and voice like velvet lining, the one that laughed at inappropriate jokes and hugged him snugly. If he shut his eyes tight and concentrated hard, he could still almost remember the slight brushes of fingertips and soft tickling of chestnut hair against his neck. Louis smiled at the memory of an arm around his shoulder, at the recollection of emerald eyes shining at him with a new, distinct happiness.   
When Harry was happy, Louis was happy too.   
  
Louis was there when Harry was quiet.   
He was there, backstage, watching downcast eyes after the news of a third place finish on X-Factor hit them hard. He was there to reassure the boy that, it wasn’t the end, they would stick together-the five of them, One Direction–though everything. No matter what would happen in the future, nothing would tear the five of them apart. Louis look up at Liam, Zayn, and Niall; they were all nodding and he gestured to Harry. Louis was there when they all piled atop the lad with the curls. He was there when a hand found it’s way to his; there to hear the private, “Thanks, Lou.” and the soft squeeze of fingers–which also came with a slight pressure on his heart.   
When Harry was cheered up, Louis’ heart did somersaults just to see that smile again.   
  
Louis was there when Harry was confused.   
He was there when Harry was pacing in the room, his hands visibly shaking. He was there, watching as jade eyes turned towards him, and steps bringing the two bodies together. Louis could feel the heat between the two of them; standing far too close together for it to be normal, but he didn’t make a move to pull away. And neither did Harry. And suddenly, urgent lips were on his, hard and rough and pushing and crushing, but Louis kissed back; he’d been waiting for the moment. It didn’t last long however–the curly haired lad pulled away as soon as Louis made a move. He was there when Harry stepped back with blank eyes, his long fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt. And he was still there when Harry exited the room without a single sound, leaving Louis is doubt as to if that _moment_ actually happened.   
When Harry was confused, it left Louis puzzled too.   
  
Louis was there when Harry confessed.   
He was there after a week of uncomfortable silences, flickering glances, and avoiding the person who made his heart flutter like a bird trapped in a birdcage. He was there when Harry sat him down, took a deep breath, and confessed. Louis’ eyes widened after Harry finished, the words all jumbling together, “AndIthinkI’minlovewithyou.” He blinked, slowly, watching the worry shift in the green eyes in front of him. Louis just hesitantly moved closer to Harry, his breath uneven; Harry’s eyes fluttered closed, and Louis put all of his feelings and trust forward into the seventeen year old he truly loved back. The kiss was tender, unlike the first one; full of love and compassion and heart. Louis was there, afterwards, as Harry confessed more– “I’ve felt something for you, for a long time.” ; “I know, but how will we tell people?” ; “What will they say?” ; “Lou, I’m scared.” Louis just grabbed Harry’s hand and told him that they didn’t have to do anything, yet. They could just try things out before they decided to take things more seriously. They didn’t have to tell everyone right away. Harry nodded, and snuggled up closer to Louis’ side.   
When Harry was by his side, Louis felt something burst inside his chest.   
  
Louis was there when things with Harry were okay for a while.   
He was there when they would cuddle together in their flat, soft, playful kisses exchanged in abundance. One Direction’s fame had caused them all to celebrate, evident in the bottle of wine on their coffee table. Louis looked at Harry under the dim lighting, and he smiled happily. He had a boyfriend, a damn great one at that, an album in the making with his four best friends, and he felt like he was on top of the world. He kissed Harry again, their lips moving in harmony. Fitting together perfectly as if they were meant for each other, like soulmates. Harry was happy. Louis was happy. And things were great–better than great.   
But like they say, if it’s too good to be true, it probably is.   
  
Louis was there when Harry was upset.   
He was there when the rumors and hate got out of control. Stories of Harry that involved a relationship between him and Louis, people hating because being gay was wrong, and it was bad, and the insults were thrown around like nothing. Louis found those stories awful; not because he was ashamed to be with Harry, but because neither boy had confirmed anything, and it was the media who were doing everything they could to sell a story. Yet, what was worse to Louis, were tweets and posts about the little chubby stomach Harry had, about how he didn’t have a perfect body. Louis was horrified to see it all; less concerned about all the speculation about their supposed “relationship” (even though they both knew it was real), he was horrified to see Harry so _torn apart_ , so _wrecked_ , so _hurt_ by the words about him. He was there when nobody knew, watching limp curls and trembling hands as the boy looked into the mirror, prodding at his stomach and wiggling his thighs and poking at his arms and turning around and around until it made Louis dizzy. His head spun with questions, why would Harry ever think he wasn’t acceptable?  
When Harry was upset, it made Louis upset too.   
  
Louis was there when Harry spiraled down, down, down.   
He was there when it was only harmless. He was there, watching as Harry picked at his food with his fork, the pieces of chicken and corn shuffling around on his plate. He didn’t think much of it. Until it started happening more often than not. He was there when Harry denied to management that he wasn’t hungry, that he felt perfectly fine. He was there when Harry flashed a smile and they let him off the hook. Louis wanted to scream in their faces, telling them that they were blind, that Harry wasn’t okay, that he was _hurt_ , but the silent screams and protests merely echoed in his head. He was there when Harry almost convinced him with a light kiss that he was fine. Perfectly fine.   
And if Harry said so, well, who was Louis to argue?  
  
Louis was there when Harry couldn’t save himself.   
He was there when Harry was sobbing on the bed, Louis’ eyes widening in horror at the blood down the other lad’s arm, the circles under dull green eyes that used to shine like emeralds. He was there when Harry was snuggled up to him, curls through his fingers as a head laid itself down onto his lap. He was there to see the tired eyes close, eyelashes as long and thick as a girl’s; except with no makeup and a thousand times more beautiful. Louis was there to run his fingers down Harry’s chest, feeling the bones starting to stick out; kiss the cuts on his arms and kiss the circles underneath his eyes and brush his lips oh-so-gently against Harry’s own, as steady breathing was heard.   
When Harry hurt himself, it hurt Louis. Why couldn’t he see how perfect he was?  
  
Louis was there when even he couldn’t save Harry.   
He was there when he found the note in his bag, while out at Zayn’s with the rest of the boys. Ill, Harry said, he was ill so he passed on movie night. Louis never argued. He knew Harry was getting worse, he chose not to say anything. He was there when the younger boy would cry himself to sleep, Louis’ comforting arms around the emotional mess. He was always there when Harry needed him, but not then. As his eyes skimmed the messy writing, Louis realized, no, he wasn’t there for Harry. Not that time. As he rushed out the door to the protests and wonders of the other three boys, he prayed and prayed that he wasn’t too late. Tires spun and squealed in the silence of the night, and Louis cried.   
What if he got there too late?  
  
Louis was there when Harry was gone.   
He was there when there weren’t any more bouncy curls, when there weren’t any more cheeky smiles, when there weren’t any more warm embraces, _when there wasn’t any more Harry_. Louis was there when the world kept spinning around him, making him dizzy and sleepy and exhausted, when the one person he leaned on was now just an empty hole in his heart. Louis was there when people sympathized and got over it, it was a terrible loss, a terrible suicide, a giant shake to the music industry, but people moved on. People moved on, but Louis was stuck. He was stuck wishing, begging for the boy to come back, so he could run his fingers through the curls, slide his hands underneath Harry’s shirt and kiss him with all the love and passion he had inside him. Louis wanted Harry to come back so the world could be filled with colour once more, so that he wasn’t stuck with everything spinning around him into a giant grey blur, so that he wouldn’t feel so dull inside. He wanted to feel happiness, joy, love. Louis wanted to feel alive.   
But with Harry gone, how would Louis ever feel again?


End file.
